Snippets of Spirk
by ThisBookBelongsTo
Summary: Non-chronological moments of space husband-y goodness.
1. Armageddon

**Snippets of Spirk**

**One – Armageddon**

**A/N: Set during and after 'A Taste of Armageddon'. 50% observation, 50% imagination. Reviews are always welcome... Enjoy!**

"Why, Mr. Spock, you almost make me believe in miracles," smiled Kirk, the slightest trace of a chuckle in his tone. It had been intended as a joke to lighten the mood, but suddenly the atmosphere on the bridge seemed to freeze as he turned his patented Kirk smile up toward his first officer.

Spock appeared a little taken aback by the statement, considering for a moment with his head tilted to one side, as was his wont when confronted with an enigma. After a second of deliberation, he settled for raising both eyebrows in confusion. Sometimes, he thought he would never understand humans.

Later, when they met for their customary chess game in the captain's quarters, Spock arrived at a more satisfactory response. Raising his knight to the next level, he stated conversationally, "Sir, you are aware that the miraculous is defined as being inexplicable by normal scientific standards?" Kirk nodded, his vision blurring into soft focus as so often happened when his gaze settled upon Spock. "Assuming this to be correct, I must assert that you, also, are evidence that miracles can – and do – occur."

Kirk looked across at his half-Vulcan friend curiously, feeling his cheeks burn as a blush made its treacherous advance up from his neck to the top of his head. Spock had to be referring to his awkward statement made earlier in the day on the bridge, but what did he mean by bringing it up again now?

"The probability of your survival up to this present moment, taking account of every situation thus far in which your life has been endangered in just 13.7%," Spock informed him serenely. "Therefore, statistically speaking, you ought to have expired before this point in time, and your avoidance of the almost inevitable may be legitimately defined as miraculous." He surveyed Kirk warmly, or at least, warmly for a Vulcan. A soft glow illuminated his black eyes that sent shivers through his friend.

Kirk sighed. He felt disappointed, but what had he expected? He really needed to stop letting his heart take the wheel. "Thank you, Spock," he offered, the words sounding a little hollow even to his ears. Spock allowed himself a slight frown as he considered this response.

"Illogical. I was merely stating a fact. However, you appear to be labouring under the impression that survival is your only miraculous quality – a false impression, I assure you." With trepidation, Spock raised his eyes to meet Kirk's golden-browns before plunging ahead. "However, I consider it the most fortunate. Had you not survived-" Spock stuttered to a halt. He had intended to comment on the necessity of survival for his friend's other qualities to manifest themselves, but the thought that Kirk might not have made it through all of their escapades, though by no means new to him, pulled him up short.

"Jim," he whispered softly into the silence. "I cannot express the friendship that I feel for you in words. But... oh." He breathed a surprised sigh as the captain reached across the forgotten game of chess to touch his two fingers to Spock's.

"I know, Spock," he murmured gently, suddenly illuminating the room with a dazzling smile. "I love you, too."


	2. The Test

A/N: Today is the first day of the ENGvNZ test match at Lord's, and as I'm very excited about the return of the summer cricket season, I'm sharing it with everyone in today's update… Writing this at college in the library, really hoping the psychopath of a librarian doesn't come over here… Listening to TMS as I write… ^.^

"The purpose of the game is not solely to gain victory, captain," Spock repeated patiently. "There are many aspects pertaining to conduct and atmosphere. Doubtless a reflection of the game's origins," he added judiciously, with a little nod of his head. Jim sighed, running a weary hand through his hair.

"I think I have this," he ventured tentatively. Spock raised one eyebrow, indicating that he should proceed. "It's… like baseball?" Spock shook his head, half in despair. Looking at his t'hy'la fondly, he murmured, "It is nothing like your 'baseball'. It is a game of endurance, individuality and sportsmanship." Kirk looked about to protest, so he added smoothly, "I am sure your native sport also allows competitors to exhibit these qualities, Jim," he soothed. "I merely reiterate the sentiments of the game's inventors." Satisfied, the captain nodded.

"But," he persisted, "this game, it lasts for five days, right?"

"In one of its forms, yes," Spock confirmed.

"Five days, and it normally ends in a draw?"

"That is correct. Usually the game does not result in a statistical victory for either team."

"But…"

Spock gave up. "It is not important, t'hy'la," he rumbled in Jim's ear. Jim nodded, dazzled by the fond smile that only he was allowed to see. "I just don't…"

His voice was cut off by a pair of slightly desperate Vulcan lips, and all thoughts of cricket flew from the captain's mind.


	3. Mine

**Mine**

A/N: So sorry about that last, I had cricket on the brain, I'm afraid! Thankfully for you guys, i.e. my readers, the next game isn't until Friday. Unless, obviously, you are blessed with the wonderful taste to love cricket…?

Anyway, this is a little 'please don't hate me for posting cricket' update – hope you enjoy! I've got a longer piece lined up for when I finally complete Rules of Engagement, too, so lots going on! Obviously, I still don't own any of this…

Slightly AU.

Stonn looked the shorter man up and down, blatantly staring at the point where his shoulder seam had given way… again. Still glowing and pink from his recent hand-to-hand brush with death, Kirk stood awkwardly by Spock's side. His first officer's pupils were beginning to retreat back into the centre of his eyes, his stance unmistakeably dangerous. He stood mere millimetres from his captain, their arms all but brushing.

Spock's gaze caught on the larger Vulcan, on whose behalf his now-ex Betrothed had forced him to fight his friend. His blood, simmering dangerously in his veins, flared up at the appreciative appraisal Stonn was making of the captain; _his_ captain.

A low growl escaped his throat, causing the raw flesh to burn in pain as it grew to a furious snarl. He tensed, his aching muscles prepared to spring on he who _dared_ look at his Jim like _that_. One fisted hand twitched forward, instinct eager to defy his will as he desperately forced down the emotional response. "Do not…" he ground out at length, pausing as a cool human hand alighted, trembling, upon his forearm. "Do not _touch _my t'hy'la," he spat in fury. "Do not even _look _at him. He is _**mine**_." Kirk shivered at the barely-suppressed forcefulness behind this last.

"I'm… yours?" he whispered at Spock's side, causing his friend to look down at him, a startled expression in his troubled brown eyes. "Your… t'hy'la," he added, the captain almost talking to himself though he maintained eye contact with Spock.

Stonn watched the tentative exchange with disgust, turning his back and taking his leave to go and lay claim to his new bride, won for him by Kirk, albeit against his will. Neither friend noticed his departure. "What does that mean?" he asked nervously, an unpleasant fluttering in his stomach at the thought of another fight like the one they had both just barely survived. Spock looked uncomfortable.

"I had not intended that you find out," he murmured, voice hoarse. "It is… a complication." Kirk waited patiently – or at least, as patiently as he could manage, shifting subtly from one foot to the other as he watched the emotional turmoil just below his friend's Vulcan façade manifest in his expressively Human eyes.

"T'hy'la… is friend," he managed finally, the words thick in his throat. "And more than friend." Kirk smiled then, the unrest in the pit of his stomach relenting as his concerns melted. "Like a brother, then?" he surmised, surprising Spock with the hopefulness of his tone.

"Yes," the half-Vulcan agreed, relieved by this reception. "Like a brother. But more," he added hesitantly. "T'hy'la is beyond all friendship, beyond normal bonds. It is rare and coveted, as most do not ever encounter the one who is meant to be theirs."

Jim surprised him again with his understanding. "Like… a _soulmate_?" he asked quietly, brow furrowed in consideration. He looked up at Spock with an expression on his face that his friend did not recognise. Spock forced himself to nod his agreement, too overwhelmed by nerves to speak, even in spite of how hard he fought to reign in his emotions and lower his elevated heart rate. "You're my soulmate." Kirk announced suddenly, grinning up at his friend. "You know, on Earth the word 'soulmate' has another meaning," he murmured, voice low and only slightly catching in his throat.

Spock knew what was about to happen a moment before their lips met, twining their fingers together at the same time. A stilted gasp that could have come from either of them broke embrace, their foreheads resting against each other, their eyes locked. "God, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," his human companion panted slightly. Through their skin-on-skin contact, their minds brushed gently. "Jim," Spock replied huskily, "I am a touch-telepath. I am perfectly aware…"

"Then you know… what I _want_," Jim interrupted in an intimate murmur.

*Indeed* resonate the amused response, filling his skull with everything _Spock_. Then they fell upon each other, and there was no need for words.


	4. Visa

**Visa**

A/N: Just a little something floating around in my head… 100% ridiculous, but fun Reviews are, as always, love, and as always, I do not own Star Trek *sobs*

"It is necessary that I depart within 24 hours."

"But… why?"

"As a citizen of Vulcan, I am permitted only two months in Standard Earth time to return to my place of origin following the completion of the mission."

"There must be _something_…"

"I am afraid not."

"No! If we can survive five years in deep space, we can keep you here. Right?"

"…"

"Alright?"

"Captain, such a course of action would be highly detrimental to your career. I would not advise, therefore…"

"Shut up, Spock! How are we going to do this?"

"_We_ are doing nothing, captain. _I_ am packing for the morning flight to Vulcan, and _you_ are reporting to San Francisco to receive your teaching position at the Academy while the Enterprise undergoes repairs."

"_Spock!_"

"…Captain?"

"Look, can you stop calling me captain? If you're so determined to leave, it does seem rather… illogical, after all."

"You are correct… James."

"Jim."

"…"

"There must be _something_ we can do, though, Spock? How do people normally go about these things?"

"They obtain a permit. I did so five years ago, and it is not open to renewal. _Logically_, therefore, I must return to my home planet."

"Can't you just… stay?"

"To do so would violate more regulations than I care to enumerate, Jim."

"I… I just…"

"Jim? Are you… quite well?"

"No! No, I am _not_ 'quite well', Spock! I need you! You can't just… walk out on me like this!"

"…"

"…Please?"

"…"

"Please, Spock, I'm sorry, I just… I can't do this without you."

"There is one way for me to obtain a dual citizenship within the required time frame. As a citizen of both Earth and Vulcan, there would be no call for me to depart…"

"How?"

"…I am not certain that you would be amenable to what I wish to suggest."

"How, Spock? Just tell me, anything, I'll do it!"

"…Very well. Were I to enter into a legal, matrimonial union with a full citizen of Earth, then I would be at liberty to remain."

"…"

"If that is all, Jim? I have not yet complete my packing, and if I am to achieve the necessary amount of rest then I must do so within the next 0.48 hours."

"…Wait."

"Jim?"

"Actually, I… think I prefer James, when you say it…"

"…"

"…"

"You are exhibiting the physiological reaction known as 'blushing'. Are you also currently experiencing embarrassment, James?"

"…Yes."

"Why?"

"It's just that… I've never done this before, and… I'm _scared_."

"I… do not understand. What-"

"Spock, we've been friends for five years now. You're closer to me than anyone else in the world, even Bones… Please never tell him I said that. But it's true. You're my best friend. You've saved my life more times than I can count, and every time you put yourself in danger for my sake, I… It hurts inside, Spock. If something ever happened to you…"

"James, if I may enquire, why are you currently kneeling on the floor?"

"Spock, will you marry me?"

"…"

"That was better when I imagined it… God, I feel so…"

"Yes."

"Sorry, what?"

"Yes, I will consent to marry you, James."

"You… will?"

"I believe that is what I just said, yes. Do you no longer desire this outcome?"

"No! I mean, yes, of course I do, it's just… You understand that I'm not just asking to keep you here? I mean, I obviously want you to stay with me, but…"

"James."

"…Yes, Spock?"

"I believe I understand."

"You… you do?"

"Yes. I do."

"Oh…"

"Is this not to your satisfaction?"

"Oh… yes! Of course! It's just… nothing."

"…Ah. Then… you believe that I do not reciprocate your affections?"

"W-what… what do you mean?"

"You love me.

"…Yes. Yes, I do."

"But you do not believe that I return your affections."

"It's… okay, Spock, I understand… you can't…"

"Please, stop."

"Spock?"

"Your assumption is… incorrect."

"Wha- Oh!"

"Precisely, James."


	5. Unspoken

It worried away at the back of his mind, creating a niche for itself in his every waking thought. It had even begun to crop up in his dreams.

Jim kept it buried, when he could, behind wall upon mental wall. He couldn't risk Spock sensing it in a fleeting touch, not now that he was finally - _finally _- beginning to accept their friendship as something he didn't have to be ashamed of. Something he could embrace.

It happened following a Klingon attack. The bridge was clouded with suffocating black smoke, officers and yeomen alike cramming into the turbolift to escape the noxious fumes. He saw the oh-so familiar blue silhouette moving about in the smog, called out his name.

Spock either did not hear or chose not to respond. Jim ran from the lift as the doors began to slide shut between them, grabbing his first officer tightly by the shoulders. Spock started at the unexpected contact, and Jim belatedly felt the tear in the shirt beneath his fingers, the skin beneath slick and sickeningly emerald green.

"Jim..." Spock's voice was hoarse, dry. His breath rasped in his throat. Jim felt him sway and clutched at the now-verdant material. Unbidden, the thought, by now a desperate need, burst free of its restraints.

"Jim... Of course..." Deep, rich brown eyes, questioning, clashed with his own hazel gaze.

"You... Yes?" He was incoherent, but Spock could feel his true meaning as it surged from Jim's fingertips and burrowed in deep beneath his skin.

"Always," he vowed solemnly.

Jim's face split into a dazzling grin. "God, Spock," he laughed, the sound rough but welcome. "I l-" The urgent union of their lips silenced him, save a small, delighted moan.

/I know, t'hy'la/


	6. Tempest

**It's probably just as well that I ****_don't_**** own Star Trek, hm?**

My whole body shakes as I sink to the floor, hot tears stinging the cut across my cheekbone. I don't mind the pain, though. Not any more. My mind must hate me, I think, as images of their contorted expressions flash past my eyes, glimpses of an agony I can't begin to imagine. An agony that I caused.

My chest feels tight and my lungs ache as they draw in the bitterly cold air. I shouldn't be out here, with the storm coming, but I just can't stay in there any longer. Can't look them in the eye and smile, force a laugh and promise to help. It is too late to help, I should have been here earlier. If only I had...

"Jim?"

The voice eases through my hysteria, a warm arm around my shoulders pulling me upright. I realise that I am lying on the ground. When did that happen?

"Jim, you are freezing," I hear him worry, and a cracked laugh escapes my lips. He draws me closer, so that his higher body temperature will help me to thaw out a little. He doesn't attempt to take me inside though, for which I am grateful.

"'S a storm c'ming," I manage, the words tumbling from my cold-stiffened lips. Looking up into his deep chocolate eyes, I notice his brows furrowed in concern. An actual frown; he _must_ be worried. "I am aware of this," he replies softly, thumbs rubbing comforting circles of warmth against my back. "Why are you outside?"

I sigh then, the desperate sadness rising up and threatening once more to overwhelm me. "Because..." I pause, unsure what to say. He watches me patiently in silence. "It's my fault," I blurt out suddenly, and his eyebrows shoot skyward. "I can't keep pretending to be the good guy..." My voice peters out and I look up at Spock tentatively. He lets out a rush of breath that might have been a sigh, the water vapour crystallising in the low temperature.

"Jim, you are not to blame for this... event," he assures me, voice low and urgent. "You could not have safely navigated the asteroid field at greater speed. Do not think that you are responsible for what happened here." He assesses my condition without moving an inch away, still enfolding me in his arms. "Please," he whispers into my hair, so quietly that I almost miss it.

Turning my face up to his, I nod slowly in acquiescence. Spock is right, I know, but I feel such overbearing guilt for what has happened... His ungloved fingers soothe my thoughts as they brush gently across my brow, the feel of his trembling hand sharp and biting against my own almost numb skin. "Spock!" I gasp suddenly, returning to myself in a rush. "Spock, you shouldn't be out here; you'll freeze to death! Come on," I urge, rising unsteadily to my feet in the blizzard and pulling on his blue-clad arm.

"I had to... had to find you," he reasons stubbornly, rising equally tentatively to his feet. The wind buffets against us as we cling to the rock face, working back to the door of the embassy building. Back-lit in the glow of the windows, I see a figure I think is Bones, peering out into the snow with an expression of undisguised concern on his face. He turns to speak to someone and I can almost hear the harsh tones he adopts to cover his worry.

Staggering into the shelter of the entrance porch, there is a sudden silence after the rushing of the wind in our ears. "Thank you," I murmur through numb lips, and Spock smiles. A real smile, full of warmth, full of gratitude that we got out of yet another situation unscathed. Then the doors fly open and hands are on us, pulling us into the heat of the building, the voice of a certain doctor shaking only slightly with relief over the sound of his tricorder.


	7. I Know Now

**Not mine, etc. etc.**

I don't know when I first realised it. Maybe it was when we were trapped in the alleyway, and his calm brown eyes met mine. When a flash of emotion broke his control, for just a moment, when they tried to restrain me. The way his lips thinned into an angry line as a drop of blood ran from my lip.

Maybe it was when we were thrown down here, in this cold stone hell. Or when he turned to me the split-second after the guards left us alone, and frowned; actually frowned. Perhaps it was his tone of voice as he asked if I was injured, or the tremble in his hands as he bound my arm with strips of his blue shirt.

Or maybe it was moments ago, when I saw a single droplet of glimmering salt water creep from beneath his lashes as he stood vigil over me. When he turned at my dry cough, crouching by my side and forcing the last of his water past my lips. Maybe I've always known. One thing is for certain, and that's that I know now, as I pull him closer by the front of his shirt and press my mouth to his. As a sharp gasp of cold air rushes past my lips before he relaxes and kisses me back.

I know now. I love him.


	8. Romantic Gestures

**Not mine, but you knew that. Gratuitous fluff. I must apologise for how OOC you may find Spock.**

A red rose. Jim stooped to pick up the solitary flower that lay outside his cabin door. Raising it to his nose, he was delighted to discover that it was real. "I wonder... who?" he mused aloud, stepping back into his rooms to place the bloom in water.

* * *

The replicator shimmered and his tray appeared. Today was his indulgence day, and he was looking forward to the enormous piece of cake that Bones could do nothing about. Glancing down, however, Jim did not see the anticipated dessert. Instead, a flat box, tied around with a silk ribbon. The aroma drifting up from them was unmistakably chocolate. Jim grinned. He had a secret admirer!

* * *

"Computer, play messages," Jim called across the room, groaning as his back hit the firm mattress. It had been a very long shift, and he was exhaused.

*Messages: One,* announced the mechanised female voice. *Let me not the the marriage of true minds admit impediments-*

"Computer, stop," Jim said suddenly, sitting bolt upright. "Identify source of message."

*Processing... Source of message withheld.*

Jim fell back onto the pillows with a heartfelt sigh.

* * *

Blinking sleepily in the simulated half-light, Jim became aware of an unfamiliar sound. That was certainly not the uniform, grating beep-beep-beep of his usual alarm. That was... Elgar? Why had the computer woken him up with Elgar? As Jim lay back in bed, head spinning in confusion, he had to admit that of all the things to hear first thing in a morning, Salut d'Amour was not one of the worst.

"Computer," Jim tried again, "Who changed the programming for my alarm?" He was half expecting that information to have been withheld when the computer responded. *Change effected by Commander Spock,* it rattled.

* * *

Jim grunted softly as he took his seat for gamma shift. Ever since that fight on Theta VII, when negotiations with the Klingons over mining rights had turned even nastier than usual, his back had been killing him. A hard punch and subsequent boot in the thick of the fray had made sure of that.

"Captain." Spock's voice broke through his thoughts. "You are unwell?" His first officer tilted his head to one side, concern just audible in his tone. Jim shook his head. "I'm fine, Spock," he smiled reassuringly. Spock was not convinced.

Crossing the empty bridge to where Jim sat, Spock replied, "Your movement and concentration are hindered by your discomfort." Then, without any further warning, Jim felt desert-hot hands on his shoulders, skillful movements turning his taut muscles to jelly in seconds. He couldn't help the slight gasp that escaped his parted lips any more than Spock could help but repeat the action that had caused it.

* * *

Turning the handle, Jim called the turbolift to a halt. Spock looked at him questioningly, one eyebrow raised in silent confusion. Stepping forward, Jim moved so that he was standing almost pressed up against his first officer. Spock felt something cool slipped into the palm of his hand, but before he could ask Jim about it, he had turned the handle and stepped out onto the 4th floor. As the doors closed on his captain, Spock glanced down at the package.

A small, black box.

Lifting the reluctant hinge, Spock's eyes widened as he took in the silver ring. But... Vulcan hands were too sensitive for this kind of jewellery. Jim knew that. So why-?

Spock's confusion cleared as he prised the lid up higher, to reveal a black thong from which to suspend the cool metal.

* * *

"Jim, I would be honoured," Spock managed, his shields trembling under the weight of his current emotions. The captain looked up into his coffee-brown eyes, his own hazels wet with tears of relief. Spock stood in the doorway of the captain's quarters, a little out of breath from having hurried over there as soon as he realised what was meant by Jim's gift.

"Really?" Jim asked, vulnerability clear in his voice and stance as he stood tentatively and edged toward the hovering half-Vulcan. He wanted so much for it to be true; so much that it hurt. Because this wasn't just some casual fling, a playful flirt to pass the time. This was Spock.

"Jim," Spock smiled, his voice rich and indulgent. "I have been and always shall be yours. You had only to ask." Jim smiled, his vision melting into soft-focus as he gazed at his Spock. "Well, in that case..." he said determinedly, "Spock," dropping down on one knee, "Would you consent to make me that happiest man in the galaxy?"

Two fingers reached down to his meld points in response.


End file.
